


Flightless

by misha_anon



Series: A Rustle of Wings [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Worship, Fallen Castiel, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, body shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel is devastated by the loss of his wings and mired in guilt and shame, Dean shows him that there's more to his appeal than feather pulling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flightless

**Author's Note:**

> Set after season 8.

Castiel studies his bare back in the mirror, eyes narrowed as he reaches over his shoulder to trace fingers over the jut of his shoulder blade. There's nothing there, of course. Nothing except human skin and bone and the distinct absence of any manifestation of his previous angelic nature. He lost his halo, too, but finds himself much less bothered about that. It wasn't his halo Dean enjoyed stroking, after all.

He looks away and drops his head to his chest, hugging himself as he closes his eyes. He flexes his shoulders, missing the weight of his wings even though it had been an ongoing source of discomfort when they'd been there. The bridge of his nose stings with unshed tears and he takes a deep breath to steady himself and push them away. He never should have asked for this stupid mirror. All he does when Sam and Dean are away is stare into it to remind himself of all the ways he's fallen.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Dean's voice drifts softly from the doorway and Castiel jerks his head up. He feels guilty for being caught unawares, and when his eyes meet Dean's, shame burns like sickness in the pit of his stomach. It's been four months since he found himself on his back and graceless in the middle of nowhere. In those months, he's gone out of his way to avoid Dean's attentions and keep Dean from seeing him like this. He blinks against the renewed burn of tears and drops his gaze to the floor, swallows around the lump in his throat before he answers.

"Why would I need a penny?"

Dean chuckles, not unkindly, and Cas can hear the scuff of his boots as he moves closer. Castiel stares holes into the floor, shivering with a sudden chill that must stem from being shirtless in an underground room. Dean's voice is still gentle when he speaks again, and entirely too close now.

"It's just a.. You wanna talk?"

Castiel shakes his head, not trusting his voice to answer. If an elephant could stand on his chest, he imagines this is what it would feel like: impossibly heavy and tight and choking on his own breath from the inside out. When Dean's fingertips brush against his chin to lift it, Castiel shies and turns away, scrambling for the t-shirt he tossed away two hours ago in a panicked need to hide himself from Dean's gaze.

"Cas, _stop_. Please." As commands go, it's a polite one, but Dean's fingers encircling Castiel's wrist leave no room for argument. "You have to talk to someone, sometime. If you don't it'll eat you up."

Castiel is stock still with his back to Dean. After a moment, his fingers dig into the comfort of the shirt he got to before Dean got to him and he pulls it against his stomach like a shield, draws another painfully shallow breath, and closes his eyes. He tries to sound authoritative, but to his own ears he just sounds scared when he replies, "I want to put my shirt on."

"Why don't you want me to see you?" Dean sounds bewildered and there's an edge of hurt to his voice as his fingers tighten around Castiel's wrist. The sound, so reminiscent of all the other times he's let Dean down, is the last push for the tears Castiel has fought so hard against. A sob chokes in his throat as his shoulders shake uncontrollably, wetness making trails down his cheeks. His knees threaten to buckle under him, grief flowing like agony from the center of his chest.

Dean's arms are strong, safe as he pulls Castiel back against his chest. The softness of his t-shirt against Castiel's bare back sets off another round of sobs that shake him bone deep and unsettle his stomach, an overwhelming nausea that tightens his jaw. Dean's voice is beside his ear, scared, pleading. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't.. I can't help if I don't know. Let me help."

Something snaps inside Castiel, like a dam breaking to release all the words he's guarded and all the fear and shame and guilt he's hidden from Dean for months. The first words to come unbidden are a scathing admission of failure.

" _I lost my wings_."

Dean sucks a sharp breath and the weight on Castiel's chest grows heavier, choking him until he gags for air while he struggles against Dean's grip. He tries to push away from the feeling of Dean's heart pounding against his back, the tight rise and fall of Dean's chest with each breath. His struggle is futile, those strong arms tightening and pulling him closer.

"I know, Cas." The words are raw, digging under his skin as he feels Dean's wet cheek pressed against the side of his neck. Castiel feels the brush of Dean's lips, gentle just below his ear ahead of another hoarsely whispered, "I know."

Too stunned to move, Castiel stops struggling. His chest heaves, lungs aching for oxygen as he tries to process the revelation. He swallows down the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat and focuses on the warmth of Dean's breath on the side of his neck, lets himself be soothed by the press of Dean's nose into the hollow beneath his ear. When he catches his breath a little, past sobs and on to silent tears, he swallows again.

"How did you know?" He's surprised Dean hears him since he couldn't hear himself over the ringing in his ears. Exhaustion washes over Castiel and he leans more heavily against Dean's chest. Dean is solid, steady and once more Castiel feels safe in his arms. He hadn't realized the weight of his secret until it was no longer a secret.

"You walk different, sit different. _You're_ different.. and not just in the ways that are obvious like eating and sleeping. I knew there was something going on.." Dean's voice is quiet, even, just for Castiel's ears as he pries the shirt from Castiel's hand and tosses it back onto the bed. "..and then.. then you wouldn't let me touch you and I just _knew_. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Castiel turns his head, bewildered, as Dean presses a kiss to the top of his shoulder. "It's my.. I did it. I was foolish and prideful and I refused to.." The words Castiel has thought a thousand times under the cover of darkness come bubbling out, bitter and angry and fueled by his grief. "It's my fault the angels fell. _I_ did this to myself and, worse, to my family. My.. my misplaced trust, my _will_.. I've caused so much pain. I don't think I can.. I won't.. I'll never forgive myself, Dean."

Another sob shakes his body and suddenly Castiel feels fragile, feels the years he's lived both before and inside of this body. His body sags and he doesn't resist when Dean's hands move to his shoulders to gently turn him around. He wants to look away, but there's something in Dean's eyes that won't let him. After the way he's hurt Dean, betrayed him in the worst possible ways, caused him the horror of damaging his brother almost beyond repair.. after everything he's done wrong and for no reason Castiel can understand, in Dean's red-rimmed, wet eyes he sees nothing but compassion and love. Somehow that makes everything worse.

The elephant is back, stomping and roaring and Castiel sways with dizziness.

"Here. Come on, sit down." Castiel is numb as he lets Dean move him to the edge of the bed, where he drops gratefully. When he leans forward, Dean is there, kneeling between his knees and looking up at him, talking. "Listen. Listen to me. Everyone gets things wrong.. sometimes you get things real wrong, but we can fix this. We'll find a way to fix it."

Cas tries to cover his face, but Dean's hands are there first, a palm on either cheek, thumbs rubbing at the wet trails of tears that are falling once more. He looks more worried than Castiel has ever seen him and Castiel feels like an endless source of pain, not for the first time. He wants to nod, but he can't seem to find the energy. When he closes his eyes, Dean pulls his face down and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Castiel swallows hard, willing his tears to stop, but Dean's murmur makes it impossible.

"We'll get your grace back, get your wings back." Another kiss, this one to Castiel's cheekbone. "But I don't care that you don't have them." A kiss to Castiel's chin, Dean's thumbs stroking in a soothing rhythm. "I just want you to be happy, Cas." Castiel feels the knot in his chest beginning to relax as Dean keeps kissing, dropping the next one over Castiel's heart.

"You're a good man. You've saved my ass more times than I probably even know. You.. you brought me back to my _brother_." Castiel opens his eyes when Dean's voice cracks, reaches to press a gentle hand to the side of Dean's neck. "And Sammy.. you saved Sammy when no one else could." Dean's forehead is pressed to Castiel's chest as Cas strokes over the edge of his hair absently. Dean's voice sounds choked when he whispers, "If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you."

"Dean.." Castiel's throat is tight, dry. He licks his lips and studies the curve of Dean's back, letting the words flow around him like a warm blanket on a cold night. He doesn't believe that anything is really all right or that he deserves to be happy, but he knows better than to doubt Dean Winchester's promise of fixing _anything_.

"Yeah?" Dean raises his head to look at Castiel, his face wet with tears, though he offers a weak smile.

"It's.. You really don't care that -"

"No."

Castiel falls silent again and nods. Dean sits back on his heels, pulls his hands away from Cas' face. Deliberately, he takes Cas' hand in his own and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Castiel watches without a word as the kisses trail up his forearm to his elbow, then up to the front of his shoulder. Before he presses the next kiss, Dean looks up and meets Castiel's eyes. "I enjoy everything about your body, not just your wings."

Dean kisses a leisurely path across Castiel's collarbone, stopping to pay special attention to the hollow of his throat. Castiel leans his head back to give Dean room and is rewarded with another kiss and a soft, pleased growl. The kisses continue across his other collarbone to his shoulder, then slowly down that arm to his wrist. He lets out a long sigh, feeling himself uncoil a little more.

Dean looks up from his task, a question in his eyes as his hands move to the button on Castiel's jeans. Castiel nods again, feeling fear creep in around his edges, but forcing it away while he watches Dean make quick work of the button and zipper. Dean looks up through his lashes, coy and offering a shy smile, before he pushes to his feet and pulls Castiel after.

He turns Castiel to face away and presses a kiss to the back of his neck, hands settling to his hips. "I enjoy your neck and the way you shiver when I kiss it." Another kiss to prove his point and his fingers slip under the loose waistband of Castiel's jeans. Castiel tenses and closes his eyes, holding his breath against the vulnerability of his bareness when Dean pulls back an inch to kiss his upper back. "I enjoy this muscle." A kiss. "And this one over here." Another kiss.

Dean pushes Castiel's jeans off his hips, tugging them down as he kisses down. An ache twists in the pit of Castiel's stomach when Dean's lips graze his shoulder blade. He feels like he's going to cry again, but the pleased murmurs of beauty against his skin and the fact that his jeans and underwear are halfway down his thighs and Dean's hand is wrapped in a loose fist around his cock gives Castiel pause, draws out a whimper from his throat.

"I enjoy your dick in my hand and the way you shake when I do this.." Dean's voice is as rough as his hand is gentle as he starts to stroke lazily up and down the shaft of Castiel's cock, pulling his hand all the way up to the tip and sliding it back down. Castiel gasps a ragged breath and shivers and doesn't notice that Dean is pressing harder kisses to his shoulder blade, stubble scraping along his spine as the kisses grow wetter and wetter. Instead, he groans, muscles quivering with the overload of sensation.

Dean's free hand is on Castiel's hip to steady his body as the strokes come faster, then slow again. He kisses and rubs his face across the breadth of Castiel's shoulders, but always comes back to his shoulder blades. It isn't until Castiel arches forward, thrusting into the fingers that wrap loose and tight and loose again, until he feels Dean bite at the jut of his shoulder blade that he realizes Dean's lips have been lingering there all along. He moans and reaches back, fingers scrabbling against Dean's head to pull his lips tight, to feel stubble scrape where wings no longer exist.

It's every bit as exquisite as the tug of feathers, but different in a way Castiel can't think clearly enough to process. He leans back into the kisses, growling incoherent words of pleasure as Dean's practiced fingers stroke and twist and press in all the right ways until Castiel's balls draw up tight and pleasure explodes through him like pins and needles. Dean's chin is on the top of his shoulder now, pressing hard to ground him as his back molds to Dean's chest and his cock thickens and jerks and hot, sticky come slicks the way for the stroking.

Castiel shudders and moans as his stomach muscles jump, the relief of orgasm flowing warm through every inch of his body. He's dazed, legs trembling beneath him as he turns his head to press his cheek to Dean's. Dean's fingers slow, drawing the last of the pleasure from the pit of Castiel's stomach before he pulls his hand away gently, whispering sex rough in Castiel's ear, "And I will _never_ not enjoy the way you lose yourself when I make you come."

Heat creeps up from Castiel's chest and blooms across his cheeks at Dean's tone. Suddenly Dean's arms are around him again, pulling him in so tight that Dean’s t-shirt clings and pulls at the skin of his back. A niggling voice at the back of Castiel's mind reminds him disapprovingly that Dean wouldn't be able to be this close if he still had his wings. But he sighs and ignores it and relaxes against his lover because for now, just for right now, the feel of Dean's chest pressed to his back and the thump of Dean's heart against his spine makes the loss almost bearable.


End file.
